Sunset of Sunrises
by lil Didi
Summary: In the twilight of life, Nick joins Heath to enjoy the sunrise and have an important conversation.


_A/N: I'm not sure where this short story came from, other than to say I was in a rather…reflective mood when it was written. I tried to end it with a bit of hope, though, so I hope that comes through.  
_

**The Big Valley**

**Sunset of Sunrises**

The sun rose slowly, glowing softly against the low clouds in pinks and oranges. The sounds of the night gave way to the cooing of mourning doves perched high in the trees and the chatter of squirrels looking for a morning meal. There was a light frost on the fallen pine needles and clumps of grass that made a satisfied crunch under worn boots.

He stopped on a small rise that looked over the meadow below where the bulk of his horses grazed. His eyes, creased by age and years of squinting into the sun, were still sharp enough to spot a young doe on the far end of the meadow, away from the horses, as it picked its way through the fall grass to the small stream that ran along the edge of the meadow.

His hat, pulled low to shade his eyes from the increasing glare of the sun, was worn and had a line of dried sweat and dirt along the suede hatband. He had a piece of straw hanging from his lips that he chewed thoughtfully. His breath came out in wisps of vapor in the early morning chill and he absently pulled the collar of his long, tan duster up tighter around his neck before he silently chided himself. _'Must be gettin' soft in my old age,'_ he thought to himself.

In the quiet morning his mind drifted back to similar mornings, in another place and time. He remembered standing at the rail of the corral back home, watching as the sun came up over the valley. _Home,_ he thought. Funny how after all this time, he still thought of it that way. But it was home. It was the one place in his whole life where his wandering soul had felt at peace. He had found a family there, and raised his own family there. Yes, it was home, and always would be, whether or not he ever went back.

His reverie was interrupted by the sound of slow footsteps coming up the rise. He waited, not turning around, knowing from the sound of the steps who it was. He let out a long breath, watching the cloud puff dissipate as the steps came to his side and stopped. He waited, knowing his new companion would need a moment to catch his wind. After several minutes, the soft, panting breaths slowed.

"Dammit Heath, I'm getting too old to come traipsing up here after you."

Heath hid a wistful smile but made no response otherwise. He knew his silence would grate on the other man's nerves, forcing him to get to the point of his visit.

"Bit chilly this morning," the man said, clearly stalling.

Making no attempt to hide a small smile this time, Heath scratched at the thick growth of hair along his jaw. "You ain't goin' soft on me, are ya?" he finally said.

"Hmmphh," was the only response he got. Silence descended between them again, but it wasn't awkward. It was a comfortable silence, born of long days in the saddle together, each knowing what the other was thinking.

"Almanac says it's going to be a hard winter. You lay in supplies yet?"

"Some," Heath said softly. "Dan and I will probably go hunting in a few days, see what we can bring in." Dan was Heath's only hand, a young man that Heath had rescued from a brawl at the saloon in town several years ago. Dan was being pummeled by three much larger men and had no doubt that Heath had saved his life. He began helping Heath around the small ranch out of sheer gratitude, but had stayed on when he had developed an affinity for horses.

"Hope you have better luck than we did. J.R. and I went out last week. Got one buck after four days. Not like it was in the old days," the older man said with a sad shake of his head.

Heath nodded. It was true, the fall hunts had been harder lately. Even up here, nestled high in the Sierras he sometimes had trouble finding suitable game. He hadn't gone hungry yet, but it did require more patience than it did before. Not something his companion was known for by any means.

"You remember that time at the lodge, with Eugene? When he switched to father's old shotgun? The recoil knocked him back about five feet and he fell over that log, rolled 40 feet down the embankment. Poor kid was bruised for a week."

Heath echoed his companions soft chuckle, remembering the shocked look on Eugene's face. After they made sure he was okay, they had laughed so hard all three of them had tears running down the cheeks. "That was the first winter after I arrived in the valley," he said, remembering.

The silence descended again, this time less comfortable as the taller man shifted his feet uncomfortably.

"Heath-"

"Nick, we been all over this when you got here last night. Ain't worth dragging up again."

Nick gave a low growl of frustration, but let the thought go for now. He turned back to the sunrise, high enough now that the air was beginning to feel warmer. Regardless, he crossed his arms over his chest.

"You sure do have a stubborn streak, Boy."

Heath gave a grin and shook his head at the familiar term. It sounded odd, given that both of them had their share of gray hair, though the other man had him beat in that department. The tall cowboy next to him had white hair hidden beneath his black hat and his thick mustache held just as much. Heath only had streaks of grey in his own still fair hair. He scratched at his jaw again, knowing that his rough beard held more grey than his head did. _'Must get that from my mother's side'_ he thought absently, _'just like Nick gets his white hair from his own mother.' _

Heath immediately shook himself from those thoughts as a twinge of pain gripped his heart. No, it was best not to start down the road of those memories. He turned around to head back toward the small ranch and his cabin. It could hardly even be called a ranch. There was a barn, two small corrals and a three bedroom cabin, surrounded by several hundred acres of land. In the spring he and Dan, mostly Dan these days, broke wild mustangs and in the summer they tended to part of the Barkley herd that was brought up during the dry summer months when there wasn't enough water in the valley to support the entire bunch.

"You think Dan has some breakfast for us?" Nick asked as they made the slow decent back down the rise.

Heath matched his pace to his brother's, knowing Nick didn't move as quickly as he once did. He knew from letters from his family that Nick had to use a cane on bad days, though his proud older brother would never do so in front of him. He buried his hands in the pockets of his duster, but made sure Nick knew there was an elbow to grab hold of if needed.

"Probably," Heath answered. "He knows the hours I keep."

"Hmmm," Nick responded, stepping carefully over a pile of rocks, both brothers ignoring the fact that Nick had to grab Heath's elbow to steady himself. "Never did understand your fascination with the crack of dawn."

Heath just smiled to himself as they walked. He had tried to explain it to Nick several times, but declined to get into the old argument now.

They arrived back at the cabin and Nick sank gratefully down into a chair on the porch, slightly winded. Even Heath was more tired than he would care to admit. It was getting harder and harder to rise before the sun each day. Some days, especially in the spring when they worked the mustangs, his knees hurt so bad that all he wanted to do was lay in bed. And he had a bad shoulder, stiff and cranky on cold mornings like this, the result of a bullet he had taken in his much younger, adventurous days.

Nick wiggled in the chair, testing its strength. "This is a mighty fine chair. You make it?"

"Yep."

"I could use one of these at home. I could put it in Mother's rose garden and watch the sunset."

"You watch sunsets, but you'll begrudge me watching a sunrise?"

"Humph. Sunsets happen at a more reasonable time of day, you know."

Heath grinned down at his brother. "Well, maybe Santa Claus will bring you a nice chair like that this year."

Nick looked up at his brother's light eyes. "Maybe Santa Claus could be talked into staying for Christmas. For, say, a couple of weeks?" he asked softly.

Heath let out a long sigh, but didn't answer.

"The family would love to see you."

Heath shook his head. "Not Kaley," he said softly.

"She would," Nick said, "she's just being stubborn, like her Father."

Knowing Nick was watching his reaction, Heath turned away. His daughter didn't understand his need to distance himself from the painful memories that the ranch and his own home held. She had been unhappy with Heath's decision to leave the ranch several years ago and had not spoken to him since. No letters, no messages, nothing. "Don't matter, Nick, 'cause I'm not going down there anyhow."

"Heath-"

"No, Nick, so stop asking," Heath said, immediately regretting his harsh tone. He shook his head and turned back to his older brother. "Please don't ask me no more, Nick. I can't go back, you know that."

Nick looked like he wanted to ague more, but clamped his mouth shut. Instead, he rose from the chair and reached out to give his brother a pat on the shoulder.

"Come on," Heath said. "I smell bacon and its making me hungry."

After breakfast, the two brothers made their way out to the corral. Dan was working a young colt that Heath planned on giving his young grandson.

"Dan's got good horse sense," Nick said as they watched.

"Yep."

"He's learned a lot from you. He was pretty raw when he first came here."

Heath shrugged. "He's a good kid, a quick learner."

Nick cleared his throat. "You know, Heath, T.H. has some good horse sense, too. Never saw a boy his age handle them better."

Heath raised an eyebrow at the use of the nickname for his grandson, but didn't respond otherwise. The boy was named after both his grandfather's, Travis-Heath, but the family had taken to calling him T.H. since he was just a babe, though Heath had never been in favor of it. It had been a family joke for a while, that the Barkley grandchildren seemed to have initials instead of full names. Jarrod's oldest Jacob Jarrod, who went by J.J., had started the trend, but it had really gained steam when Nick junior began going by J.R. and Audra's daughter Deirdre took on Didi, which wasn't technically initials, but sounded like it. Heath's grandson, the first of a new generation of Barkley's, was continuing the trend.

"He tell you he wants to go on the rodeo circuit when he gets older?" Nick asked casually.

Heath nodded. "Yeah. I'm sure his mother is pleased with that news," he said with some sarcasm. T.H. always spent two weeks with Heath in the early fall when the hands came up to retrieve the herd for the fall round-up. The boy had chatted on endlessly about the rodeo his uncle Nick had taken him to outside of Sacramento over the summer.

"Kaley will come around," Nick said with a small laugh. "Even she admits that the boy has your horse sense. Besides, he's only twelve. He has a few years before he's ready for that kind of life. By then he'll be on to something else most likely."

Heath was quiet as he watched Dan work.

"He sure misses you, Heath. Talked non-stop about you when he got back. Still does."

Heath turned away as he blinked away the sudden moisture in his eyes.

"Becca's girls have been clamoring to come up for a visit, too. T.H. gets them all fired up with his stories." Becca was Heath's youngest daughter and had twin five-year old girls of her own.

With a sigh, Heath turned to his brother. "Laying it on a bit thick, aren't you brother?"

Nick's eyes caught his own and they locked for several heartbeats.

"Dammit, Heath, it's been five years. Five years of your self-imposed exile. The family, the whole family Heath, wants you to come back, to come home where you belong. We need you, Heath."

A bark of laughter bubbled out of Heath. "Nick, there are more Barkley's in that valley than you can shake a stick at. You don't need me."

Nick smiled as well. It was true. Between Jarrod's four kids, his own three, Heath's two, and Audra's three, most of which had children of their own now, there were a LOT of Barkley children and grandchildren running around. More than enough to run the various enterprises that the family owned. Heck, even Eugene had added to the number of Barkley's, though his kids all lived back east and only made occasional visits. But Nick and Heath both knew that wasn't what he had meant.

"It's your home, Heath, you belong there," Nick said softly.

Heath broke his brother's gaze as he turned away. His arms were draped over the corral railing and he let his head fall to rest on his arms. "Nick…" he said softly before he stopped. He shook his head without looking up, swallowing hard before he spoke again. "I can't Nick. I can't go back there, to the big house. There's too many memories, too much to-" He stopped abruptly and raised his head to once more look at his brother. "Nick, did you know that every time I go in the big house, I smell lilacs? It was Mother's favorite perfume. And if I don't smell the lilacs, then its Silas' cinnamon bread. And cigars. I smell Jarrod's cigars every time I go in the study. Every time, Nick."

Nick reached out to put an arm around his brother. "It's lemon for me."

Heath gave him a quizzical look.

"I smell mothers lemon snap cookies. They were my favorite as a kid. And with Jarrod, I smell that god awful Scotch he used to drink. And Silas' chicken creole. Boy, I love my wife, but her chicken creole doesn't hold a candle to Silas'." He let out a long sigh as he pulled his brother closer. "We all have memories of them, Heath. It's what make a house a home; the memories. You just got to learn to hold them close, not run away from them."

Heath turned away as another surge of moisture came to his eyes. "And my house, Nick? My God, I can't even step into my own house back there, without…without expecting, wanting to see her, to hear her voice just once more. Instead all I hear is her cries. How do I not run away from that, huh, Nick?"

Nick could only shake his head as they stood in silence for a long time, each lost in their own thoughts. Heath was lost once more to memories, his mind going back to those awful days before his wife died. The cancer had spread, eating her alive, and her last days had not been pleasant on anyone, especially Heath who refused to leave her side, let alone eat or sleep for days. He had held her hand through agonizing days of pain, whispering words of love and support despite knowing she was too far gone to hear him.

Heath shook his head, forcing the memory away before swallowing the lump in his throat.

"You know, Audra and I were talking about that at Thanksgiving," Nick said softly. "We were sitting in the study and she said she could almost feel Jarrod and Mother in the room with us." Nick kept his arm around his brother as they remembered the family members that were now gone. "She misses you more than you know, Heath. She's the one that sent me up here. Made me promise one more time to try and get you home."

Heath had to smile at that. He and Audra had always had a special relationship, right up to the day she married and moved onto her husband's ranch. Carl had a spread not too far from the Barkley's, so they had still managed to see each other several times a week, maintaining the bond they had formed so many years ago. He had to admit that he missed their quiet conversations together.

Heath sighed. Truth be told, it wasn't the memories of lost loved ones that made Heath flee the valley, it was fear of losing the ones that were still here. Fear of losing the last two people that had brought him into their fold when he was nothing more than an angry drifter. It had been hard losing their Mother, but she had lived a long and happy life and her death during a flu epidemic that had taken so many in the valley had not been overly traumatic. Silas, long past being a mere servant but still carefully watching over the household had died in his sleep not long after. Everyone just assumed he had moved on to help his beloved Miz Barkley in the afterlife. But Jarrod's death a few years later had been much harder, coming so unexpectedly. The older brother that Heath counted on for help and advice was gone. It was like having a wall you were leaning against suddenly collapse and realizing you had no choice but to stand on your own two feet again.

After the trauma of Jarrod's death, and the death of his wife five years ago, Heath couldn't imagine what life would be like if he lost Audra or Nick, the two siblings he was the closest to. He had hoped by leaving he could begin to insulate himself, create some distance that would spare him from the inevitable pain, but all it had done was create a pain of a different sort. And not just for himself, as he was beginning to see.

A lump forming in his throat, Heath turned away to swipe at his eyes. Dan, sensing the change in mood of the men watching him, shot his boss a questioning glance, but Heath waived him off. Reluctantly, Dan turned his attention back to the frisky colt.

"J.J. is bringing the family down for Christmas," Nick said, seeing Heath's discomfort and changing the subject. "Can't believe how much that boy looks like Jarrod."

With a nod Heath said, "Yeah. Never thought I would meet another living soul as smart as Jarrod, but that boy just might put even Jarrod to shame."

Nick gave him a questioning look.

"Had him over last spring to take care of some business. He had my head spinning with all his facts and figures." Heath answered the unspoken question Nick shot him with a glance by adding, "We aren't getting any younger, Nick. I needed him take care of some things in my will."

Nick's eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't comment on that. Instead he said, "He and Jeffrey take care of the business side of things pretty well."

"Jarrod would be mighty proud of them. Of all his kids."

"That he would," Nick confirmed. After a moment he added, "We've all been pretty blessed that way, I guess."

Heath nodded. "We have."

After some time, with emotions back under control, Heath shot his brother a grin and Nick gave him a pat on the back.

"Come on, Little Brother, you can help me get my gear together."

"Kinda surprised your family let you come up here alone, Nick."

Nick growled as they slowly returned to the cabin. "J.R. and Michael threatened to come with, but Dot talked them into staying home. She knew…well, she knew I needed to do this on my own."

"You're a lucky man, Nick. Not many women I know of that could handle you as well as your wife does."

"What do you mean, handle me?" Nicked asked with mock anger. Within moments they shared a laugh. It felt good to laugh together after so many years. As they reached the porch, they both paused to wipe tears away, fits of laughter still bubbling up. After a moment, Nick sobered and looked over at his brother. "I miss you, Heath. I miss my partner."

Heath, still smiling, though no longer laughing, gave him a nod. "I know, me too."

"Heath-"

"Nick," Heath interrupted, "let me think on it, okay?"

Nick watched his brother closely. Finally, deciding that Heath was being sincere, Nick nodded. "Just promise me that you will think on it good and hard, boy. Like you said, we're not getting any younger."

"I will."

"Guess I can't ask more than that." Nick moved toward the door. "Now come on. If I leave now I can make the late train back to Stockton."

_**BVBVBVBVBV**_

Three weeks later a fresh layer of snow covered the ground in the meadow, but there was no one to witness the pink and orange rays of the sun as it rose over the mountains. Sunlight streamed into the meadow where horses calmly grazed on the hay bales that had been dropped in several spots since the snow obscured the grass. Birds chirped high in the trees as the doe ventured once more out of hiding to drink along the creek that had not quite frozen over.

On the breeze, the whistle of a far off train could be heard, but the animals ignored it, not realizing the significance of that particular train and its precious cargo. In the livestock car, a frisky colt tossed its head. In the baggage car, a well-made rocking chair moved with the motion of the train over the tracks. And in a passenger car, a man with a greying beard and a cranky, sore shoulder watched the landscape slip by as he lowered his hat over his eyes and let memories of home lull him to sleep. _'I'm going home.'_


End file.
